


This Time Around

by Flipdarkchill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Third Year, Mentor Severus Snape, Quidditch World Cup, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Some Humor, Summer Vacation, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flipdarkchill/pseuds/Flipdarkchill
Summary: At the end of third year, Harry finds out he has to spend his summer with Snape of all people. What starts as a terrible summer grows into something more.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter & Voldemort
Comments: 17
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

He thought he would be staying with the Dursley's. He thought it would be just like any other summer, doing chores in the garden, laying in his room, waiting until the days would end so he could go back to Hogwarts. He had even thought he could have had some fun in telling his aunt and uncle that his Godfather— a 'mass murderer and convicted killer'— had escaped from prison and Harry was keeping in contact. He could have had some fun in taunting Dudley with the new spells he had learned, much to his relatives displeasure, and probably resulting in more chores and a few days in his room with no food for that. But Harry wouldn't have minded. Now he would do anything to have that. Now, as odd as it was, he was actually wishing he could go back to Number Four Privet Drive. Anything to escape this.

Harry didn't even comprehend it the first time Snape had told him. It had passed through his ears, he had almost even nodded in agreement before it all came crashing down on him. That slick smile as he approached Harry before leaving the Great Hall. Harry was still replaying that horrible moment in his mind.

_“Potter!” Snape yelled across the room, Harry turning around to see the black shadow slowly approaching, his cloak whipping around his ankles and his dark eyes glittering; he looked as if he had 'business' to do with Harry. Harry waved a little good-bye to Ron and Hermione before turning around to face his doom. Harry racked his brain for anything he could have done wrong, anything Snape could accuse him of. What did Snape have in store for him this time? Maybe he was still angry about Sirius... and he_ did _hand in his end-of-the-year potions essay, right? Or maybe his essay was so horrible…was he going to give him more homework over the summer?_

_"This summer…Potter,'” He began, the candles above giving him an odd look in his eye, a smirk creeping over his lips as he lifted his finger to his mouth, “you will be staying with me.”_

_And Harry had just stood there. First, the word 'summer' had made his heart skip a beat, but when no 'homework' followed, Harry had been so happy he had failed to realize just what exactly had been said. He had almost even laughed that he wasn't in trouble, wasn't getting a detention on the last day of school, wasn't getting some massive project over the holidays so that he wouldn't be able to sleep lest he finish it. He had even almost turned around and walked away thinking, 'was that it?'. However, Harry had the feeling he was horribly mistaken, that he had missed something…_

_“What?” He asked, his mind unable to wrap around what had just been said._

_“You heard me Potter. You'll be staying with me this summer; the Headmaster has decided, and all the preparations have been made. I expect you to meet me back here in the morning at six. We'll be traveling by floo. So sorry Potter…,” He added while heading back up to the Staff table, his twisted smile still lingering on his face as he looked back at Harry's horror-struck expression, “But you won't be going back on the train with your little friends…”_

And this was the moment that Harry couldn't forget. He was laying in his four-poster bed, trying to come to terms with what was going to happen to him in the morning. Ron had already gone to sleep, and so Harry had not had the chance to tell him. When Snape had finished, Harry was so shocked, so mortified, that he did not even have the strength to speak of it, let alone tell the news to his friends. What would they think? So he had spent the rest of the evening wandering the halls alone, trying to find of some way out of it, trying to find the meaning behind this sudden disaster.

He wondered what he had done to deserve such torture. Why him? Why, for the whole summer, was he to live in the same house as Snape who liked nothing more than to torment Harry with his snide words and comments? What was Dumbledore _thinking_? And why was he changing Harry's living arrangements now, anyway? Harry had always stayed with his aunt and uncle, as much as Harry always hated it… now he was really wanting to complain; this was ten times worse than anything the Dursley's could do, Snape would make sure of that.

Harry, now having mulled over the situation so much that his brain hurt, wondered if he should wake Ron. Ron and Hermione were probably the only ones he would tell. It was his new secret that he really didn't want others, even Neville or Dean, to know about. And certainly, he didn't want the whole school to know he was to be living with Snape either. Especially Malfoy. He would be laughed at, pitied to endless depths if anyone ever knew. What—what could he do to get out of this? He felt at the end of his game, and he had just begun to enjoy himself now that Sirius was safe and there was nothing to worry about.

Perhaps he could write a letter. Harry felt sick—it was the middle of the night, how could anyone possibly help him now? No one would get the letter before he was taken away. Maybe he could send a message to Dumbledore, maybe… he could catch him in the morning, and tell him that he _really_ wasn't bothered— _at all!_ —to stay with the Dursley's. He would even argue, as much pain as it would be for him to say, that he _loved_ to stay there each summer. Anything to stop this terrible progression of events. Harry had wanted to stay with Sirius, but now he was— that was it! Harry nearly leaped out of bed at the thought. He could write a letter to Sirius! Sirius wouldn't let Harry stay with Snape; he would do anything to help. Perhaps Harry could ask him to influence Dumbledore to change his mind. Sirius was sure to help him… he would not want his Godson living with Snape of all people. Perhaps….

Harry had a plan. It was the only chance he had to get out of this. First, he would write a letter to Sirius and have it ready to send off in the morning. Then, he would wake up early and attempt to see Dumbledore before it was too late. He would beg even if he had to. However, if things still didn't go his way, and he was _still_ going to have to live with Snape, he would send off his letter to Sirius before six. He didn't want to send a letter if he didn't have to, especially not so soon after Sirius escaped. But Harry was desperate, and he needed some sort of hope… a last chance for someone to save him, _anything_ to save him, even if he _would_ have to spend a few days with Snape because of it. Harry crept out of bed and headed down to the common room, a quill, and some parchment in hand….

* * *

Harry thought it was best to tell Ron before he left that morning with his plans. It was nearing five in the morning, and Harry was sure he hadn't slept at all; the prospect of meeting with Snape so soon, time did not help him in slowing things down.

Harry pushed Ron down on the couch by the fire and started pacing, struggling to put his situation into words. Ron still looked out of it, rubbing his eyes, mumbling to himself about what was so important that Harry needed to talk at this ungodly hour. Harry tried to explain.

“I have to— I have to—" Harry _still_ couldn't voice it. It was hard to admit that this was happening to him.

“You have to what, Harry? What are you talking about?” Ron yawned tiredly while stretching his arms. “Can't we talk about it on the train?”

“I won't be on the train… if things continue” Harry whispered quietly, much to the shock of Ron. He looked at Harry seriously, then smiled a goofy grin.

“Ha-ha… Harry, you're more tired than I am! _Of course_ you'll be on the train! How else will you get back? Now, lets go back to bed for a b—"

“I have to live with Snape!” Harry shouted, and all of Ron's tiredness swept away with the drop of his jaw. It hung there, Ron looking stupidly at Harry, also unable to put Harry's situation into words.

“You—you, what?”

“Exactly!” Harry yelled. Ron had described it perfectly.

“Snape told me as I was leaving dinner yesterday, you remember…. He said Dumbledore planned for it, and that everything was prepared! If someone doesn't help me before six, I'll be trapped with Snape for the whole summer!”

Ron gasped loudly; his eyes wide with horror at the thought of _living_ with Snape. His mouth was still hanging open, and he was looking…thinking...

“It's bad enough we have classes with him… let alone spending _every day_ with him!”

Harry wished he hadn't put it in this perspective. Harry was trying not to think about it, but now Ron's words filled him with fear. 

_Every_. _Day_.

“Harry! Don't worry!” Ron said standing up, a determined look on his face, “I'll think of a way—I know, you can live with me! I'll ask mum, of course she'd say yes! Snape can't take you with him if you have somewhere else to go, right? And Dumbledore has to agree! Its perfect!”

But still… Harry wasn't so sure.

* * *

“No.”

Dumbledore had turned Harry down before he had even said anything. Ron had accompanied Harry to his office— thankfully, as Harry was nervous— but still it was no good. Harry could only stare at the Headmaster in disbelief, Ron the same. For a moment, Dumbledore merely sat with his arms on his desk while Harry and Ron stood in front, in shock, confusion, and in an instant they began to protest.

“But—but— Professor!” Harry stammered, feeling like a child with no proper reason.

“How can you let him—" Ron said furiously.

“Snape— he's not—!”

“ _Professor_ Snape, Harry…”

“That's not the point!”

“Harry can live with me, how about that?” Ron yelled with triumph, sure that he had defeated the entire argument.

“Oh I thought, Mr. Weasley, that you would come up with that solution. However, Harry must live with Professor Snape. Anything else won't do…”

“But—but…” Ron stumbled, all his confidence gone as his entire plan was shattered, “Harry, he can...why Snape—sorry—Professor Snape? Harry, he can live with us… can't he?”

“I'm afraid, Mr. Weasley, that it can't be done, as much as I would hope. Harry must live with Professor Snape this summer, there is no other way. Now… I believe—"

“Professor… please.” Harry begged with everything he had on the line, “I can't live with him, you know how he is…why do I have to live with him anyway? Why change now?” Harry felt sad, betrayed. He felt like the trust he had in Dumbledore was gone. There was no reason he could not live with Ron. Why was he making Harry live with Snape all of a sudden? To him, it didn't made sense.

Dumbledore looked tired, and he seemed aged for a moment instead of his usual happy self. He sighed,

“Harry, if I could tell you, I would. But alas, it is not the right time. Professor Snape will do you no harm,” Ron snorted, “And I mean that, Mr. Weasley. I have absolute trust in Severus, and he would not harm a hair on Harry's head. Harry has nothing to worry about, and he may even, dare I say it, _enjoy_ his time there? Harry— do not worry. Professor Snape will take care of you. All the living arrangements have been made, your aunt and uncle have been informed. Now— I do believe it is nearing six o'clock, and you have yet to send your letter?”

Ron looked around at Harry— he had forgot to mention his backup plan. How did Dumbledore know?

“How?” Harry asked, stunned that he could be found out so easily.

“Harry— did you really believe I would not guess you would attempt to ask Sirius for help? But never mind. Send your letter, and we will see…'

Harry didn't know what that meant, but maybe he still had a chance? Maybe Sirius could persuade Dumbledore. If Sirius could help him…

Harry and Ron ran out and rushed over to the Owlery.

* * *

“I can't believe him! Making you live with Snape! Harry— he's lost his marbles, that one. And here I thought he was just a kind old man… he's a crazy old man!” Ron shouted as they entered the tower, “Snape not hurting you! Ha! The first chance he gets—oh, sorry.”

“Yeah, Ron, I get it.”

Harry tied his letter to a barn owl and brought her over to the window. He didn't want to use Hedwig as she attracted too much attention. Hedwig seemed offended and flew upwards. The sun was slowly rising, and the trees of the forbidden forest swaying softly in the morning air. A few birds could be seen, and the cool wind brushed against his skin. Harry didn't want the morning to come.

“Brilliant, though, you thinking of Sirius.” Ron cut into the silence, taking Harry from his thoughts, “If anyone can help you, Sirius will. He won't stand for it, heck, he'd even probably come out of hiding just to help you.”

“I told him not to.” Harry said simply. “Its too dangerous for him to come back, people are still looking, so he wouldn't anyway. I only told him to tell Dumbledore or convince him in someway. That's all the hope that's left…”.

Ron looked depressed. Harry let go of the owl and pushed her into the air. She took off gracefully, the letter tied to her foot, Harry hoping desperately she would make it. He watched as she flew further into the distance, slowly becoming a speck between the vast world and the tower in which he stood, leaning on the edge of the window, and watching his only possible means of escape fly ever further…

“How'll we tell Hermione?” Harry asked, his heart sinking as the time grew closer. Without Sirius, without Ron, Harry would _have_ to go with Snape, at least, for now...

“I dunno. She'll probably be worried sick though.”

“Don't tell anyone else, ok? I don't need the whole school finding out.”

“Well duh. Just think, if everyone knew—well actually, I'm not sure how they'd react. What do you think? Would they laugh, or just be plain grateful it wasn't them?”

“…Ron, how many times do I have to tell you…” Ron seemed to have a habit of making everything sound worse.

“Sorry... Harry… but don't worry. Even if you do go now, I won't give up trying to save you. Hermione too; we'll figure a way around Dumbledore. You won't just have Sirius at your back, we'll all try and get you out as soon as possible.”

Harry felt a little grateful to have Ron with him. Ron was his friend, Harry knew he would try as hard as he could. Maybe things would work out after all, and with Hermione's brains…. If he only had to spend a few days with Snape, maybe he could somehow survive long enough to be rescued.

“Guess we better go then…" Harry turned from the window and walked out, Ron following behind him sadly.

He gave Hedwig a look before he left, telling her he was leaving. However, knowing her, she'd find him wherever he went. She was mad at him for not delivering the letter, which meant that Harry really _was_ going alone on his trip to Snape. He really, for the first time, felt utterly defeated. Even his recent adventure was no match for his depression now. And with the little courage he had left, he headed back with Ron to grab his things.

* * *

Harry, as it turned out, was leaving earlier than all the other students. Perhaps just as Harry didn't want others to know he was living with Snape, Snape also didn't want the student population to know Harry Potter was to be living with him. The train back to Kings Cross station usually left at nine, yet Harry was leaving the school at six. Or at least, he was to _meet up_ with Snape at six. Harry sort of wished Ron would have come down with him, but Harry knew Ron needed to pack his things— he had left it all until now. Besides, Snape probably wouldn't like Ron hanging around. Ron had told him he'd make an excuse for Harry's early departure, and so Harry had said a depressing goodbye, which hopefully wouldn't be his last, and he headed through the portrait and down the halls towards the meeting place.

Harry dragged his trunk, making quite a lot of noise too seeing as he was the only one doing so. Down one hallway he had to wait five minutes before he could sneak past Peeves.

He pulled his trunk down the stairs and finally through the doors of the Great Hall. Panting slightly, he looked up to see Dumbledore and Snape waiting for him. They were standing by one of the fires, Dumbledore looking pleased that Harry had made it, and Snape giving him a glare as he came closer.

“Now Harry, I assume you know you are traveling by floo powder, correct?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes sir." Harry didn't really want to look up, so he kept his face hidden by his hair, his head hung in shame. He hoped Sirius would get his letter… soon.

“Well, then, I guess you two should be heading off now. Severus, I do hope you'll keep your word, and also not to forget your duties.”

Harry looked up at this. Didn't Dumbledore say he _completely_ trusted Snape? Why was he talking about keeping his word? What duties? Didn't Dumbledore _just_ tell him not to worry?

“Professor!” Harry yelled, Dumbledore turning his twinkling eyes to him with a smile.

“Harry, like I said, do not worry. Now, off you go…”

Snape grabbed Harry's arm before he could protest. Harry looked painfully at Dumbledore, not understanding, but he only smiled and waved. Harry felt an immediate panic, that Dumbledore really didn't know what he was doing after all—he had said not to worry, but now all Harry could do _was_ worry. How could he trust Snape? How could he _live_ with Snape? Ron was right, Snape really was going to hurt Harry at the first moment he could. How could Snape do anything otherwise? Before Harry had time to think, Snape threw the ashes into the fire and it flamed green. He pulled Harry in, shouted a street name which was unfamiliar, and Harry felt a twist, a pull in his stomach as he was swept through the many fireplaces, the emerald green flashing through his eyes, and the knowledge that he was headed for a different sort of summer vacation this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so I have these old stories on my computer, I feel like posting a few to work on every now and then, hope someone likes this, I have some ideas lol...


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry had first landed, tripping over his feet and falling to the ground, he was sure he had fallen into some dark and musty hole. His glasses were covered in ash, yet even when he cleaned them, the image did not improve. Then, his mind registered who he was with, what had happened mere seconds before, and it suddenly all made sense; of course Snape would live in such a creepy looking home, how could he not? If there was anything in the world that made sense, it was that Snape did not live in some bright, sunlit house full of sunflowers. There was little to no light, and a suffocating, cool air which made it hard to breathe. As Harry took in the living room from the ground, he could see a red couch and armchair, a small coffee table, and a tiny lamp that was broken. The whole place seemed full of dust, clouds of it hovering around, and he coughed as he breathed in the air.

“Get up, Potter…” was Snape's way of a warm welcome.

Harry scowled at him as he did so. He was not going to let Snape have his fun. Harry knew how Snape would love to humiliate him during his time here, but Harry wasn't going to give him any sort of satisfaction. And after all, Harry wasn't planning on staying too long anyways. He didn't know how he would escape, but he wasn't going to give up, no matter what Dumbledore said. He had Ron and Hermione, Sirius too, who would be trying to rescue him. All he needed to do was survive a few days, try not to make Snape too mad, and then head out before Snape could do anything.

He took in the room, slowly adjusting to the idea of being in Snape's home. The living room was small, and no form of entertainment could be seen except the fireplace and a small alcohol cabinet—there was a set of stairs close by, a kitchen covered by a set of gloomy curtains, and a few bookshelves to his right. That was it. It was obvious by the spider webs and eerie darkness that lurked all around that no one had lived here in quite a while.

“I see you are amused by my home, Potter…?” Snape spoke suddenly, his lips curling upwards in a sneer, “No doubt the _famous_ Harry Potter is not used to living in such conditions. I am sorry it is not quite like the _luxury_ you are accustomed to...”

Right off the bat, Snape was enraging Harry so much that he had to bite his lip to stop himself from shouting. When Harry did not answer, Snape continued curtly,

“Now… I assume you have some form of a brain, Potter…or maybe that's why your so inept in my potions class?: He smirked again, apparently insistent to make the most out of Harry's ordeal.

“You know as well as I do that neither of us want to be here.” Finally something Harry could agree with, “Nevertheless, you are to be staying here as the Headmaster has decided, much to my _disapproval_. If it were up to me, you would still be living with your muggle relatives— the only good thing, it seems, that could ever sort out that enormous head of yours, Potter…”

Harry wasn't sure he could take any more. It was so hard not to say anything…and Snape seemed to love his control over Harry all the more. He went on,

“There are a few rules to be established and I expect you to follow them. The first rule is that you are not allowed to leave this house. Under no circumstance will you be allowed out, and I have my own ways, Potter, to know if you abide by this.'

In an instant, all of Harry's anger at Snape flew out the window and was replaced with shock, a sick feeling in his stomach, as if he had dropped from a great height. He wasn't even allowed fresh air? He couldn't even escape Snape's presence for a little while? What was this, a prison? And Dumbledore had said not to worry….

“You mean I can't even—!” Harry tried to protest, but was cut off as Snape spoke even louder,

“The second rule is that you are not to go snooping around! I know how you are Potter, thinking you are some sort of mystery solver… but if I find out you've been looking where your nose doesn't—"

“Look who's talking about noses”. Harry said before he could stop himself; apparently his anger hadn't died down just yet. However, now he was sorely regretting it by the look on Snape's face, twitching in barely controlled rage.

Snape walked over to him and looked down, his pure black eyes loathing. Harry had to take a step back, sure he could feel fire coming off his breath.

“The third rule… is that you are to address me with respect. It seems we are already having trouble with this?”

“How can I treat you with respect when you practically—!”

“Believe me, Potter, if you disobey any of these rules…” Snape whispered dangerously, his voice full of threat, “let’s just say that Dumbledore may or may not be getting back his ‘Boy-Who-lived’ in one piece”.

Harry had never believed he could hate Snape more than he hated him now. Harry really couldn't wait until he could leave, and then he would laugh at the look on Snape's face as he walked out the door. He would only have to spend a few days. Harry seemed to hold this prospect of getting out as his only means of sanity. He wasn't even sure if it would be a few days until the others got back to him, but he had to _hope_.

“Your room is upstairs and to the right; I expect I don't need to escort you, do I?” And with that, Snape turned on his heel and walked off, heading into the kitchen with his billowing robes and leaving Harry alone to bubble in his anger.

Harry grabbed his truck roughly and dragged it to the stairs, not caring about the noise he was making against the wooden floor, not caring that he nearly knocked over the lamp in his hurry. He definitely didn't want to stay with Snape; not if he had to put up with _this_ every day.

Once he got to the landing (after a rage worthy struggle up the stairs), he threw open the door and slammed it shut. From there, he started to pace all around the room. He took no notice of the bed or the dresser as the only furniture in the room, didn't even register that he had only a tiny slit of a window in which to see the outside. All he cared about was not losing his mind as he was trapped with Snape. Snape's comments had made Harry so mad that he couldn't think straight, and so, still fuming, he crumbled onto the dusty bed (much to his surprise), inhaled a fistful of particles and stuck his head in the pillow.

He _really_ hoped Ron and Hermione would write soon.

* * *

The rumble, slow rhythmic beat of the train was the only sound in Ron and Hermione's compartment. When she had found out Harry was already gone, Hermione had been struck with fear, and so (with much suspicion to everyone else on the train) Ron had taken her alone to a compartment in the back so they could hold a private conversation.

“I just can't believe it…. What on _earth_ is Dumbledore thinking? Sending Harry off with Snape...it doesn't make any logical…”

“Yeah Hermione, that's what Harry said.” Ron looked out the window, “I guess he's there by now… wonder what sort of torture Snape's got planned for him…but what can we do to help him Hermione! You’ve got brains— think!”

“Well, if Dumbledore said it was alright…' Hermione looked down guiltily.

Ron looked at her in disbelief, unable to believe his ears.

“Hermione, who are you kidding?' he yelled, “You know well enough how Snape treats him! That evil, twisted, rotten bat has probably poisoned him—"

“But Ron! Think for a minute!” Hermione regained herself, “Why would Dumbledore send Harry with Snape for no reason at all? Dumbledore knows what he's doing; after all, he's the greatest wizard of our time— if he wouldn't let Harry stay with you, then there must be an important reason why he has to stay with Snape. That's the only explanation!”

“Hermione, you can go on and on all you want about how Dumbledore has his _reasons_ , but you _know_ how much Snape hates Harry!”

“But…”

“Look Hermione, we have to save him, Harry's counting on us! You should've seen him, the look on his face when he told me. Besides… would _you_ want to be stuck with Snape all summer?” Hermione blushed, and Ron continued with a smirk, “Thought so. Nobody in all of hell would want to be stuck with Snape, much less every day, in the same house… breathing the same air.” He shivered at the thought.

“But what can we do to help him…? It's near impossible if Dumbledore himself won't change his mind.”

“Harry sent a letter to Sirius before he went… maybe we can write one too?”

“Well… it's a start…” She looked troubled and in thought, “Sirius would want to help—true, but what can he do, thousands of miles away and on the run? We just saved him; he wouldn't come back so soon… it's too risky.”

“Harry said that too.”

They remained quiet for a while, the chattering of students all around could be heard, and the flashing of trees passing by the window. Crookshanks leapt from the trunks up above and onto Hermione's lap; she petted him fondly. 

“So what did you say to the other's about Harry leaving?” Hermione asked Ron with interest, wondering what he could possibly have said as an excuse. And much to her suspicions, Ron turned an instant shade of red.

“I said that…” If Ron could have turned any redder, he did. But just then, the door slid open and revealed none other than Draco Malfoy, much to their surprise. He was grinning broadly and looking pleased about something.

“Well, well… I see the rumours are true then. Potter's not on the train—what happened? Did he get kicked out or something? Or maybe the muggles didn't want him anymore… “ He laughed, and Crabbe and Goyle behind him joined in.

“What do you want, Malfoy? Go away if you have nothing decent to say.” Hermione folded her arms and looked away, and Malfoy let the smile wipe from his face; no more laughter was coming from his mouth. He quickly turned things to business.

“I guess it was you then, Weasley?” He addressed Ron, who looked both angry and embarrassed at the same time knowing what was to come, “You were the one who told that _ridiculous_ story? When I first heard it I thought it was a joke!” Hermione looked alarmed, “Honestly… fighting off trolls with his bare hands, being so injured he couldn't make it to the train and had to fly back… you weren't serious, were you? Do you really think anyone was stupid enough to believe that?”

And as his laughter at Ron came back tenfold, Hermione could only look unbelievably at Ron, unable to think of how he could have come up with that one.

Ron shook in humiliation, and his lips unable to produce a single comeback. Usually he would have no problem in telling Malfoy off, but now he was hesitating, unsure of himself, stalling before the growing, mounting pressure to say something, _anything_ , to defend himself. The fact was that he couldn’t… because he himself knew how stupid it sounded too.

“Isn't it you who is being stupid, Malfoy?” Hermione spoke up at that moment. She could see how Ron was struggling for an answer, and at the same time she hated Malfoy for laughing at her friend. Ron was just thankful for being saved. “ _Of course_ it was ajoke, I would have thought that was obvious in itself. He wasn't being serious, Malfoy— however, if you thought that was the case…”

Malfoy sneered an unpleasant smile.

“What's it to you, mudblood? I can see what's going on here; your trying to save little Weasley here some face… never mind, though.” He turned around to leave, “I'll find out where Potter's really gone… that is,” he looked to Ron, “if the _trolls_ don't get me before I can make it…” And then he burst out laughing, the way he always did when he had the last say, and with Crabbe and Goyle following like giggling stumps, he slammed the compartment door shut and left.

Outside and even a few moments after, they could still hear his laughter ringing down the halls, the commotion stirring the train as other students got out to see what all the fuss was about. Hermione looked to Ron, who was still looking down and glum.

“Really Ron?” She sighed, looking a little exhausted herself, “You could have just said he was sick…”

Ron let a small smile cross his mouth, his expression lighting up at such a simple, obvious answer.

“Oh yeah….”

Why hadn’t he thought of that before.

* * *

Harry had not moved an inch since his arrival. The silence in the house was killing him, his head still pushed in the dusty pillow, his attempts to drown out reality not working nearly as much as he had hoped. It was evening now, and he hadn't eaten anything all day. Harry knew he was only being selfish and stubborn by staying in his room, but he didn't really care. He hated Dumbledore for sending him here, he hated Snape for making fun of him about things he didn’t understand. Snape was probably still mad about Sirius's recent escape, and though he had no proof, he still suspected Harry for his involvement— this wouldn't make things any easier between them. Add to that, Snape just had a natural dislike for Harry that even Harry didn’t understand.

Thoughts occurred to him about just leaving right now, opening the door, and running away before things got too difficult and he was _really_ stuck here all summer. He wondered where he would go in such a situation: the streets? The Leaky Cauldron? He also wondered what Snape would do if he actually _did_ run away. Snape had said he wasn't allowed to leave the house, but what would he do if Harry did? Would he hunt him down, fire spells and drag him back if he had to? Harry wouldn't put it past him.

His thoughts turned to Hedwig. He wished she would make it back soon. She was always a comfort whenever he had to stay in horrible places. At the Dursley's, she was Harry's only friend and connection to the outside world. The way she would nip at his hands or bring in dead rats for him to eat (he always gave them back), he enjoyed these moments with her. At school, everyone always seemed to ignore their owls, viewing them only as messengers… but to Harry, Hedwig was special; she was much more than just an owl, and she was an important part of his life. But he probably wouldn't see her for a while though—she was mad at Harry for not giving her the letter. Still, he hoped she would get over it soon.

Harry's' heart skipped a beat when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He felt sick to his stomach. He hated for Snape to see him in such a state. He hadn't come down all day, had not moved at all, staying stubbornly in his room, refusing to do anything; and he hated for Snape to see this side of him. The other reason for his nervousness was the prospect of being yelled at. Snape was probably furious with him for staying upstairs all day. He was probably coming to tell him how much of a brat he was being, in which Harry couldn't really deny it. When the door opened, Harry laid very still, trying to pretend he was sleeping.

“I've only come to tell you, Potter,” Snape began in a dangerous, quiet tone at the door, “That if you insist on being a _child_ , by all means, you'll have no troubles there. However, even if that is the case, there are some things in which you should be made aware of...”

He seemed to have decided that Harry wasn't actually sleeping, although Harry still did not move. He heard him draw closer. He wished Snape would just leave him alone; he didn't want to hear what else he had to say.

“You seem to hold the belief that you will just be _idling_ away your time here…” Harry had a bad feeling, “But I don't want you to get the wrong idea… there is _lots_ for you to do here, Potter…and you won't just be… sleeping,” Harry went rigid as his pulse seeming to stop. Snape went on in a dull manner,

“I have a list of chores and other such things for you to work on… seeing as how you are not to leave this house, we certainly don't want you to be bored, do we?” He let out a small, twisted laugh, and Harry was breathing hard into the pillow.

He wanted to get at Harry, and it was working. Harry was used to doing chores at the Dursley's, but this was different. He didn't want to work for _Snape_ , of all people, around the clock— it would be like some horrible, nightmare of a detention, and he could only imagine Snape picking out the worst things for him to work on. At the Dursley's, even if he had chores, Harry could still be alone in his room when he was done. In fact, the Dursley's liked it best when Harry was alone in his room. Now, however….

“If you understand…” He droned on at a length, heading back to the door, “then I expect to see you in the morning at sunrise. You have refused to come down for dinner today, but if you continue to starve yourself…well, we might just find a way around that.” He shut the door, a crisp farewell and with that, he finally left Harry alone. It seemed that whenever Snape finished his 'conversations', Harry was always left in a state of fury. He wasn't going to last long if things continued this way.

Harry still did not move, and for the rest of the night he stayed shut up in his room. He was probably going to regret not eating dinner.

Before Harry knew it, his tiredness caught up to him and he fell into some uneasy dreams of what morning was going to bring.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry awoke a little earlier than Snape had instructed. The tiny window in his room showed a darkened sky, the sun no where to be seen. If Snape was going to make him work from now on, he probably wouldn't have much time on his own. He also didn’t want to risk Snape reading his mail and hoped that whichever owl was delivering his mail had enough sense to bring it to his room window, and not the window downstairs.

Harry was still a little hesitant to go roaming around, so he opened the door very quietly and crept into the hall. Harry hadn't noticed before in his anger, but there were two other doors opposite of his. One lead to a bathroom, and the other likely belonged to Snape.

Harry tried to envision Snape sleeping— and couldn't. His heart beat a little as he padded down the stairs.

On the third last step, Harry stopped, and for a moment he was sure that somehow Snape's house had a trick step too, an entrapment around his foot which would cause him to sink. He didn't need to keep checking behind him, for Snape lay ahead, sitting on the sofa with an expression of knowing amusement at Harry's early arrival. It looked as if he had guessed.

“And what do we have here…?” Harry wished he could go back up the stairs.

“I thought so,” Snape spoke from the shadows, his dark form menacing and Harry's leg still in the movement of going down. “Potter, you thought you could test me? Didn't believe I would be _up_?” And Harry could only stammer out some form of an answer.

“Yes—I mean, no! I mean— _sir_!” Harry added when Snape gave him a glower.

Snape got up from the chair in one movement, his black hair curtaining his face as he strode over in but a few steps.

“Well, now that you are here…” He motioned for Harry to go into the kitchen.

* * *

The Burrow wasn't the most imaginative of places to form plans in. But for the moment, neither Ron nor Hermione had any sort of plans to help their friend out. Their brains and strategies ran dry. They were stuck, at a loss, completely helpless to save Harry from the torment of living with Snape for the summer. Ron had thought it would be easy, Hermione, however, had enough sense to see otherwise.

Harry had told them not to say a word about where he was at, and true to their promise, they had not even told the rest of Weasley family about Harry's predicament. While Hermione had chosen to stay at the Weasley residence until further notice, their secluded, whispering natures didn't help matters, and Mrs. Weasley, being no fool, began to suspect immediately that something was up. To their tiring ears, and their frustrated minds, not even a day after they had arrived at the Burrow and Mrs. Weasley would not stop her constant prying.

“So where is Harry again, dears?” Mrs. Weasley began, _again_ , the morning after in yet another attempt to catch them off-guard. Ron grumbled into his plate. Hermione's stress levels were visible in her hair. They had only been back one day, and yet both had been questioned so many times that they no longer cared to answer. Mrs. Weasley never believed them, anyways.

“You know,” She went on in her caring, motherly way, “If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I'm only here to help.”

Ron grunted in response; he knew how to deal with this one. Hermione wanted to escape from the breakfast table, although Mrs. Weasley _insisted_ she eat _something_.

“More pancakes, dear?” She piled five more onto her plate.

“No—no thank you, Mrs. Weasley; _really,_ I'm too full! I can't eat—!'

Ron was shaking his head vehemently behind his mother's back, desperately trying to get his warning out. 

“I mean…” Hermione tried to correct herself, a hesitant smile to complement Mrs. Weasley's stiffness. “I mean… _thank you very much._ ” She finished in a rather small voice, Ron huffing out in relief as Mrs. Weasley seemed to take the comment in stride.

“There's more on the pan if you need any,” She smiled and headed back to the stove, now cooking the sausages.

“We have to get out of here!” Hermione whispered urgently to Ron across the table. They were the only ones eating, and not without the suspicion that Mrs. Weasley had forced the rest of the family out to interrogate them alone.

“I know, but she won't leave us alone until she finds out,”' Ron whispered back, “I don’t think—"

“What was that?” Mrs. Weasley cupped her hand over her ear; even over the sizzling pan in front of her, she was, apparently, still trying to listen for any sort of conversation they might be having.

“Nothing!” Both of them answered quickly, and the scene once more settled back into silence. Ron mouthed something, and Hermione was working out what he was trying to say.

Hermione laughed a little, because Ron's mouth was doing big, wide, circular movements, and for all she knew he was trying to impersonate a fish. She understood all the same. _He's got a plan._ Though what sort of plan? Hermione would have to see.

 _Yawn!_

Ron stretched, in a huge exaggeration of sleep that Mrs. Weasley looked over, and even if Hermione didn't know of Ron's plan, she could tell it was fake.

“Thanks for the meal mum, but I'm off to bed for some extra sleep… you know, the train ride yesterday…”

Ron got up to leave, but Mrs. Weasley stormed over and pushed him back down.

“Oh no you don't! You're not leaving until you— you—!” Mrs. Weasley didn't like to admit her own underhanded methods. Hermione could see Ron's plan as he looked over and winked; if Mrs. Weasley wouldn't acknowledge her own devious methods, then she couldn't truly stop them from leaving if they had a decent enough excuse. She couldn't stop them unless she admitted the real reasons behind her _lovely_ meal. However, at the sight of Ron's smiling face, and Hermione's hopeful looks, Mrs. Weasley snapped.

“Not until you finish your _meals_!”

And on top of Hermione's already tumbling tower of pancakes, she dumped the rest of the pan, and Ron's own plate was now rolling with sausages. It seemed they really weren't getting out of this. They both stared down at their mountainous piles of breakfast.

It really was going to be a _long_ morning indeed.

* * *

Harry put the fork to his mouth, looked up, and immediately stopped. The smirk on Snape's face was too much to ignore. He put it back down. He brought it back up. Snape was watching him with mild amusement, Harry trying to discern what he had done, where the trap lay. Maybe he should take a drink first? He reached for his glass of water.

Harry was still struggling to take the first bite, first _anything_ , all of him wanting desperately just to give up and eat his breakfast. But how could eat in this situation? Surely Snape had done something to the meal, he _was_ the potions master, after all.

“Is something wrong?” Snape could not hide the pleasure in his voice; he was clearly enjoying Harry's struggle to eat. He had his hands clasped in front, his smile lingering behind as he looked on. He wasn't touching his own meal, and was watching Harry straight on, waiting, amused by his attempts to do something so relatively simple: eat.

“You believe I have done something…? You believe—perhaps not entirely unfounded—that I have _added_ something to your meal?”

He did not move, continuing to look at Harry across the table, continuing to smirk behind his carefully placed hands.

“No.” Harry lied. How could he not suspect? He was probably just bidding his time, waiting for the right opportunity.

As horrible as the idea was to him, Harry was eating breakfast with Snape. Snape had practically forced him to eat something before he started on his chores. He hadn't eaten anything at all yesterday, and so if he didn't eat now, he would be, “ _too weak for physical labour_ ”, as Snape had put it. The kitchen was a simple matter: one single length table, a muggle stove (Harry had thought there would be a cauldron), and one very messy cupboard situation.

“Either way, Potter, if I had wanted to poison you— and believe me, my hand is always just _inches away_ from my most deadly concoction— I would have done so in your sleep. Poison.. or perhaps… _some of my other works_ … some which may prove more useful than mere _poison_ … “ He smiled at the horrid expression on Harry's face, running a slim finger along his mouth as if in wonderful thought. But then he was brought back to reality and snapped.

“Now stop your hesitating Potter and eat.” Snape ordered him in annoyance.

Harry picked up the fork.

* * *

A knock on the door wasn't enough to budge Ron and Hermione from their positions on the floor of the bedroom; while the others, it seemed, were not completely unaware of the torture Ron and Hermione were enduring at the hands of Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George had taken it upon themselves to save the two before they collapsed from Mrs. Weasley's killer breakfast. Ginny, too, had seen their suffering, and accompanied her brothers in the dramatic rescue. And now that they had successfully pulled off the escape, they had all gathered up in Ron's room for some peace and quiet at last.

“Ah, look how peaceful they are… such a beautiful sight.” Fred pretended to cry.

“As if they were in heaven!” George pulled out a handkerchief.

“Shut…” Ron barely managed to speak.

“What was that? Do I hear a "thank you"? You know George, I do believe we can ask mum for some more _pancakes_ ….”

“You're right Fred. More _pancakes_ … more _sausages_ … you can even eat up here!”

“No…more…please!” Ron covered his ears; he couldn't handle the horrible, mental images of his most recent trauma.

“What was that? You say you want some more? Those delicious, mouth watery—!”

“Alright, already! _Thank you_! Now will you both shut up!” Ron was holding his stomach in pain.

“I don't know, Fred, do you think that was good enough?” George considered his brother thoughtfully.

“I don't know either. What say you, Ginny? Was that good enough for all our effort?”

“Its fine.” Ginny said simply, putting the matter to rest. She walked over to Hermione, who had her head lowered and was in a clear struggle not to throw up.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” She asked gently, putting a hand on her shoulder, and to which Hermione could only nod in response.

“I-I'm fine, I think… I'll be alright now.” Hermione managed to say at last, looking a little green.

“Well Ginny, I guess its time you went back down to check on things.” Fred pulled her to the door, “You're our informant to keep mum in the clear; you've got to report to us, remember. Make sure she's not still breathing fire by the time we come down!”

“But—!' Ginny tried to break free, yelling in protest; she could see they were trying to get rid of her. It was a tough fight, even for Fred, to finally get Ginny through the door and lock it shut. She banged for a while, but eventually gave up and headed back down, although not without a few curse words.

“Where did she learn such language?” George marvelled.

Ron and Hermione had sat up by now and waited for what the twins wished to say that Ginny couldn't hear.

“Now, time to get down to business.” Fred said clapping his hands together, looking around them with a grin.

“We believe you two fellows are in dire need of some assistance?'

“With little Harry, we believe?” Fred looked to Hermione.

“Poor Harry,” He continued, “When we first heard, even _we_ were tempted to think it was a joke. I can't even imagine having to spend my summer _there_ , of all places!:

“Exactly. Nothing short of pure torture. Dumbledore must've had it in for him!”

“How? How do you two know?” Hermione gasped, looking between the two in shock. “We never said—"

“You—!' Ron shouted angrily, “Harry didn't want anyone to know! We didn't tell anyone— so how— how did you find out?' Ron suspected some foul play, but apparently, there was no such thing.

“Easy. We were in the Owlery at the time.” Fred said simply with a grin.

“Heard the whole conversation,” George supplied freely. Ron looked outraged at having been eavesdropped on.

“We didn't believe anyone would be up to mail letters—"

“No one would mail letters on the last day of school, or so we thought.”

“And who do we hear but our own little brother coming up the stairs! We had no choice but to hide.”

“Didn't want our _own_ business found out too.”

“So, we've come to ask—" George said finally.

“What have you two been doing?” Fred raised an eyebrow.

“Any plans on getting him out?” And so they finished, facing Ron and Hermione expectantly.

Ron and Hermione looked to one another, and a little guiltily at that. It was true that they had only just arrived at the Burrow, and Mrs. Weasley's distractions had given them no time to think, or even talk, at all by themselves since they had come home. Fred and George seemed to guess that they hadn't done anything spectacular; and what exactly could they do, all by themselves anyway?

“No need to fret. We're here to help now!’ “George spoke over the silence.

“Good thing too, because if I were Harry, I wouldn't want my future in the hands of two uncertain teens such as yourselves.” Hermione looked a little offended at that, but Ron just rolled his eyes.

“Now, we don't have much going for ourselves in terms of ideas either—"

“Hah!” Ron puffed out loudly, pointing an accusing finger, where he started to rant about their hypocrisy; he was shortly cut off,

“As we were saying!” George held his hands, overriding him, “We may not have a lot to go on, but that doesn't mean—"

“We can't provide the _means_ …” Fred's eyes lit up.

“What do you mean ‘means’?” Hermione asked them suspiciously, and in return, they smiled all the more mischievously. She wasn't sure if she should really dive into any _illegal_ resources, and knowing Fred and George, that was surely what they meant. But at the same time, how else could she help Harry?

They seemed to have noticed Hermione's change in tone, and twisted around to leave while saying,

“It doesn't matter what we mean, Hermione, only in that we're here to help! That's all that matters, is helping Harry! Right Ron?”

“Yeah, but what can you guys do? You're all full of talk, you can't _really_ do anything…”

Fred and George walked off to the door,

“Perhaps not from _your_ perspective.” Fred started to close the door.

“And definitely not with _that_ attitude.” George scoffed.

“But we'll see! Now get cracking, you two, and hurry up! Harry's counting on us!” Fred winked and shut the door with a snap, and Hermione and Ron were left alone to think about all sorts of different ways in which Fred and George could possibly help. Perhaps, if nothing else, the twins had given them the start, the incentive to formulate some form of a plan, and so with a little feeling of hopefulness that something could turn up, they each took out some parchment, pens, and began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am planning on this story being a decently sized story, I'm not sure how many chapters yet, but probably longish... and I'm wanting this story to slowly shift more to Harry and Snape's relationship, as it grows over the summer, and yes I'm planning that Snape will be present for most of the story, and I think it will be hurt/comfort with a little fluff/humor in the beginning, but I want it to be more serious as time goes on...hopefully I can write alright... Thanks for the comments :)


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